The Twilight 25 Challenge
by Chess07
Summary: My take on The Twilight 25 Challenge. I love using pictures as inspiration, so I thought I'd give it a try. Images are available on the LJ page.
1. Time

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: 1  
Pen name: Chess07  
Pairing: Bella/Edward  
Rating: K

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

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_I do not own Twilight or its characters. This takes place the summer between Twilight and New Moon._

_Word Count: 100_

To some, time goes by too quickly, and there are never enough hours in the day. To others, it drags on endlessly.

Most humans tend to be in the first group. They are always rushing about thinking of all of the chores and work that just _have _to be finished before they can relax. Time is very limited for humans.

It's ironic that those of us who can move at the most extreme speeds are also the ones who have all the time in the world.

Bella gave me a beautiful, antique hourglass for my birthday. She's not very subtle.


	2. Trade Secrets

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt #: 16  
Pen name: Chess07  
Pairing: None real  
Rating: T

Photos for prompts can be found here:  
community[dot]livejournal[dot]com/thetwilight25/13912[dot]html

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_Obviously, I do not own the Twilight series. Otherwise I wouldn't be late on my rent for a house that literally falling down around me!_

_Thanks to my roommate Whitney for betaing. There is a bottle of Prosecco waiting for you in the fridge. _

_I'm usually not nearly as good writing AH as Canon/AU, so I thought I might try to combine them somehow…. This is what happened…._

_Word Count: 2,510_

My God, I was bored. Not the I-have-a-so-much-that-I-could-be-doing-but-don't-really-want-to kind of bored. No, this was the genuine, grade-A I-have-absolutely-NOTHING-to-do kind of bored.

I had already finished all of my work for the day, but it was still too early to leave yet. I may or may not have taken a five-hour energy shot this morning so I could extra productive today. I really just wanted to try it because the ads on TV said it keeps you super motivated, and all of the actors in them looked like freaking models. I should know. I doled out the _costumes_ to those skinny bitches on set.

Dole: verb, to give out sparingly or in small quantities. Let me tell you, those outfits were definitely "small quantity."

This was exactly why I get so frustrated when I have nothing to do! My mind needs something to focus on or else it will run wild and jump from topic to topic. Damn my short attention span!

It was a little after two o'clock- too late for the lunch I had already taken anyway, but much too early to be able to leave for the day. I had already checked all of my email, work and personal, and responded accordingly (Yes, Mom, I'm still single, but I'm oh-so-excited to hear of my younger sister's engagement). I couldn't go online for fear of getting caught shopping again. You can only plead ignorance to so many times before your boss either knows you're lying or thinks you have major problems with memory loss, neither of which will help you keep a job.

Maybe I could just watch my coworkers. That idea had potential. When I was little, my sister and I would watch people at the mall or in airports and come up with elaborate stories. The young woman with the long, black pea coat walking into the small boutique was an unhappy heiress going to pick out a short white dress for her clandestine wedding to the valet she met when her father dragged to another fancy, yet unbelievably boring ball. Or the scruffy man in the worn jeans was rushing to catch his flight that would take him to Paris to live off of his music and his passion alone. This was one of our favorite games, and one that we became quite good at, if I do say so myself.

However, it might be a little more difficult with these people that I kind of already knew, at least a little. As I looked around me at the drab grey cubicles, I realized that it would be a little weird giving people that I actually had to come in contact with on a regular basis a false life. I just couldn't look at the same Mike Newton that I knew only drinks from the water fountain and never from the tap and say that he had a second job at night as a dominatrix at a gay gentleman's club two cities over. The thought of Mike in patent leather made me shudder.

Plus, Mike Newton just wasn't that interesting. No offense, buddy.

Maybe I could put a twist on the game? I could make the stories really outlandish, only the kind of thing my hyperactive brain could come up with. I had to do something to keep the overwhelming boredom at bay It was so crazy, it just might work!

Mike from accounting became Sir Michael of the Slightly Oblong Table. Yes, he was slightly OCD, but that just meant his sword was extra clean and shiny. He was a generally nice guy, and I could totally see him as a knight defending the virtue of young maidens everywhere. Lord knows, he didn't look like he was getting any. In my mind, Sir Michael saved the young damsel Lady Angela (the agency's quiet but friendly receptionist) from that dastardly rogue, Squire James (also from accounting, but much and creepier). Lady Angela would grant Sir Michael a kiss on the cheek and return home to her husband, Sir Benjamin. Oops, I forgot Angela was married. Oh well.

I smiled at my little story as I watched the hero Mike get up to wash his hands. Again.

Ok, so who next?

Jacob Black. Dude's really big and really hairy. Definitely a werewolf! He was constantly trying to live his day-to-day life around his unsuspecting peers as he maps out camera angles at his bland desk for the next commercial shoot. But once a month, he turns into a raging beast with FMS, full moon syndrome.

You know what would suck? If a female werewolf got PMS and FMS at the same time. Imagine the cramps! I bet that's why Jacob's assistant Leah can be such a bitch at times. Ok, back to Jacob….

He didn't want this to happen to him, but it all started back in high school when he was attacked in the woods behind his home by that mysterious wild animal. Suddenly, he started growing at an inexplicable rate and craved his steaks almost raw. No doctor could help him when he changed every month, so he just learned to tuck himself away from the rest of the world for a night so as not to harm anyone else.

I snorted as I watched Jacob's warm grin cover his face as he read the script for the commercial he was getting ready to shoot. I was way off base with this one. Jacob Black couldn't be dark and tortured if he was being paid for it.

Ok, so those two stories only took twenty minutes to come up with. I still had over two and a half hours until I can leave. I sighed, blowing my bangs away from my face with my puff of air, and started to look around for my next unknowing victim, uh, participant.

I shifted my gaze when I heard the elevators ding. Out stepped Rosalie Hale, yes _that _Rosalie Hale, movie star and latest spokes model for the big name acne company we represent. Yeah right, like anyone would ever believe she had skin problems. Ha!

Rosalie Hale was the ideal mermaid to add to my little fantasy. Her long, flowing blonde hair and perfect body just screams for attention the second she walks into a room. And, of course, I wasn't just giving the girl a fish tail just because I was crazy jealous of her mile-long, toned legs. The fact that I only stood at a tiny five feet tall even to her almost six feet had nothing to do with her characterization.

As a mermaid, Rosalie would often swim to the ocean's surface when boats would sail by and use her ethereal beauty to lure the men to jump out and try to swim to her. She would then grab them and drag them down to the inky depths of the sea and have her way with them while they drowned thinking they were living out their fantasy. The other merfolk found out about her sadistic hobby and banished her to live the life of a disgusting human, exchanging her for legs. She lived her life on land easily by using her mermaid looks to enchant the world with her films and became a man eater of a different kind….

Wow. That was a little dark. Just another reason I should really stay away from caffeine. It messes with my mind. Plus, drowning men for her sick pleasure really didn't seem like Rosalie's style. She liked the way they look at her too much. It sounded more like her scary little assistant Jane than Rosalie.

A loud bang alerted me, and the rest of the office, to the enormous man exiting the men's restroom. He looked to the elevators in time to cast an overdramatic flirty wink at Rosalie. She just scrunched up her nose and rolled her eyes.

Emmett Cullen was the jolliest man in the building, and with good reason. As the CEO's son, Emmett could have retired by the time he started elementary school, but instead studied business and marketing and came home to work for dear old Dad. He was currently a sales person and was damn good at his job. The already extremely lucrative advertising agency doubled their clients when he came on board. Absolutely no one could say no to his wide smile and adorable dimples.

But at night, he prowled the streets for evil as a masked vigilante. Or at least in my mind. Here to save the day, it's Meaty Man!

Dear Lord. That is the worst superhero name ever. Note to self, don't _ever_ quit your job to write comic books, because you suck at it.

Seriously, though, who would make a better superhero than the inconspicuously cheerful salesman? Like Superman had his day job at the paper, Emmett brought clients by the truckload into his unsuspecting father's company during the day. Hey, superheroes have to eat too. But by night, Emmett donned his blue and green spandex suit and cape (insert giggle here) and watched over the streets of our fair city, cleaning it up and keeping us innocent citizens safe with his super strength and enhanced vision and hearing.

I glanced again at the clock. Picturing Emmett in tights took longer than I had realized, or was will to admit. Another hour down, but an hour and a half more to go. Will this day never end?

Moving on, I noticed that Edward was leaving his cubicle the next row over from mine. I didn't miss his humming as he passed by me on his way to the copier, and I certainly didn't missed that the only time he looked up from the hand-written sheet music he was holding was to glance into the New Girl's tiny office space.

Edward Masen was freakishly intelligent and the wicked awesome musician behind some of the world's most famous jingles. He was every bit the stereotypical tortured artist, too. No one really knew much about him because he never talked to anyone or even seemed to show any interest in people in general. I had heard that his parents died when he was in high school and that he gave up all kinds of college scholarships because of the toll it took on him. That's why he was writing jingles instead on stage directing some giant Philharmonic. However, there was no telling if any of these stories were true, because, like I said, Edward didn't talk to anyone.

Maybe, he was hiding the fact that he was really a vampire! He outlived his parents because they actually died a hundred years ago, which has certainly given him more than enough time to perfect his music. Edward also came into work earlier and stayed later than everyone. This must have been so that he didn't get caught in the sun and burst into flames, or start to glitter, or whatever. Plus, there was no way he could be _that _pale unless the sun scared him shitless. Seriously, he looked like he was sick.

Edward was turned into a vampire at the beginning of the last century and has had to watch everyone he has known die around him, generation after generation. And he couldn't take any jobs with any big orchestras because would then run the risk of being recognized in the future.

Edward glanced again at the New Girl on his way back to his desk. Ah, she must be his next victim.

New Girl did actually have a name, Bella Swan. She transferred to the company when she moved here to be closer to her father, a police officer who was injured on the job. She was quiet like Edward, but it seemed more because she was shy, not just weird like him.

Not sure if it was a good idea, going after a police officer's daughter for his next meal. I thought you were smarter than that, Edward. And Bella, make sure you walk home in a group tonight if you happen to like your blood to stay inside your body.

Another hour gone. Was 4:30 to early to pack up for the day? I should probably stay since Carlisle, the boss, and Greek God in my imagination, was so nice about catching me on non-work approved website during office hours in the past. However, the Gods can be fickle and I wouldn't want to give him a reason to smite me in the future.

For the half hour of the work day, I thought about myself and the character I would be. Obviously, I would be a gypsy fortune-teller. I always know what song would come on the radio next and I could tell before I even got there how a movie or TV show was going to end and if I was going to like it. Of course that might be because the radio station basically all played the same annoying ten songs over, and over, and over, and over again, and all movies and shows are practically running on the same clichéd script with only the names changed.

I could just see myself in a floaty peasant top with a loose, brightly tie-dyed skirt that flew up around my waist when I spun in a circle, and lots of gold bracelets and large hoop earrings.

I was broken out of my gypsy fantasy by the rustling from all around me, so I checked the clock again. Finally! It was 5:03, and I was officially done with the longest day in history.

As I stepped out of the building onto the sunny street, I thought again about the people in my office. I couldn't believe some of the things I had imagined about them. I mean, come on! Werewolves and vampires? Really?

I decided right then and there that I was never going to take an energy drink again. It did strange things to me.

As I turned the corner, I crashed into what seemed to be a wall. I was very confused because I walked home this way many times before, so much that I could probably walk it with my eyes closed and trust myself not to wander out into traffic. There was not supposed to be a wall here.

A hand covered in long camouflage sleeves were thrust into my visual field. My eyes traveled up to see that this hand was attached to a muscular arm, which was attached to a man. A very handsome man. This handsome man had sun-bleached blonde hair that was cut short, but had grown out just enough to see the ends start to curl. This handsome man also had a pair of deep blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

"I'm real sorry, ma'am. Here let me help you up," came his deep voice that hinted at a Southern drawl.

I smiled and my imagination went back into overtime. It may not have worked out for Carmen and Esmerelda, but it looked like this gypsy was going to get her soldier!

_AN: I apologize to all of the Leah lovers. I know she doesn't deserve to be a bitch, but I needed a female werewolf. Also, sorry to all of the Rosalie lovers. I just couldn't get her story right. Nothing was good enough, so I finally just had to settle. Don't worry, she'll get a better prompt later, I promise. I like writing her._

_This was kinda silly, I know, but I still hope you liked it! Let me know what you think!_


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